


Basic Significance

by starrylitme



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Zero, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Twins, Anal Sex, Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Emotional Baggage, Friends With Benefits, Internal Conflict, Jealousy, M/M, Marking, Mental Instability, Minor one-sided Komaeda Nagito/Matsuda Yasuke, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Tsunderes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 05:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylitme/pseuds/starrylitme
Summary: Matsuda is the only person he’s ever been close to. Their relationship has always been sosimple. Matsuda is the only person he can look at clearly and see something thatisn’tunpleasant. That Matsuda can look at other people like that—bothers him.(Him and Matsuda Yasuke had already been rather close, but after one night together, Kamukura realizes that he wants them to be even closer.)





	Basic Significance

**Author's Note:**

> So this is...modern au where Matsuda and Kamukura are coworkers, non-despair au because obviously, and twins au where Hinata doesn't even show up in person. A unique concoction, I guess?
> 
> I'm not gonna lie, I literally only wrote this because THERE ARE NO FUCKING FICS WHERE MATSUDA BOTTOMS. I've never even seen fanwork of that happening. Ever. That's blasphemous and bad. So I wrote this. And because I'm a dumbass, I added way more plot-y stuff than there probably needed to be. Will I ever be able to wright just straight (lol) porn again? I don't even know.
> 
> But there's porn in this. Oh boy is there porn. I should feel more accomplished about that, at least.
> 
> Please give Matsuda more love. And more dicks. Both of those. Both is good.
> 
> KamuMatsu and MatsuKoma are both so good... I need to write them more...
> 
> Please comment and validate me if you want more of whatever this is. I'll do it. For Matsuda-kun.

It’s morning, about 6:45am, with sunlight due in approximately 14.365 minutes. Matsuda’s alarm is set for 7:20am. Matsuda is face down in the pillow, dead to the world. Idly, Kamukura runs his fingers through those short, curled strands. Dark as raven’s feathers, and yet with a minuscule difference in shade to his own.

Matsuda is likely drooling into the pillow. The sheet covering his modest back is thin, and would leave little to the imagination if Kamukura was not already familiar with every single naked line and crevice. He had perfect recall, but there was no harm in refreshing one’s memory.

Especially when Matsuda’s glimmering gaze, his pinched-up brow, his bitten-up lips—had all been a pleasing sight as Kamukura rutted into his body.

Desire is still such a curious thing.

_Even sleeping innocently and inelegantly like this,_ Kamukura thinks as he continues combing his fingers through Matsuda’s hair. _I desire him intensely. I would like to have him again._

But if he did, Matsuda would gripe about needing to walk. Later, then. Later.

Good things come to those who wait.

With that in mind, he waits.

* * *

“Mmmgh.”

“Good morning to you as well, Matsuda-kun.”

“Mmmrrr.” Matsuda shoves the jammed toast into his mouth, covering it with crumbs. Messy. Graceless. Matsuda chews and swallows. And, then, “I don’t own any fucking jam.”

“I brought it with me,” Kamukura murmurs, sipping at his own sweetened coffee. “You were merely too tired to have noticed.”

“Huh.” Matsuda wipes his hands, at least. He’s a doctor, thus particularly good at it. “I’m still tired.” A loud yawn into his hand, tears beading in his eyes. “Urgh.”

“I can give you a massage, if you like.”

“Mm...” Matsuda’s rubbing his eyes, still bleary. Vulnerable. “Nah. Just coffee should be fine.” He blinks. “What kind of fucking weirdo brings jam over? Then again, if letting a guy stay over gets me free food, I should show my ass with one more often. Literally, in this case.”

Kamukura stilled for a moment, and his gaze narrowed sharply. Matsuda noticed and scowled back.

“What? Is that gonna be a _problem_? You’re not one of those creepy _possessive_ types, are you?”

Kamukura’s fingers laced together on top of the desk.

“You should not say something so careless.”

“You’re the only one hearing it, genius,” Matsuda snapped, making his way to the coffee maker. “But uh, should I expect to be seeing you more often? Well... If you showed up more often than you already do, I’d have to charge you for rent.”

“I can pay for that, if you like.”

“The fact that you just say that without missing a beat seriously pisses me off.” Matsuda rolled his eyes, nearly jamming his thumb on the coffee maker. Bitterly, he waits. “Forget I asked. The sex wasn’t that great.”

“Wasn’t it?” Kamukura asked simply.

“I will throw my fucking coffee at you if you don’t shut your trap, Kamukura Izuru.”

Obediently, Kamukura did.

He wasn’t insulted, of course.

This was just how Matsuda Yasuke was.

Difficult and surly, sharp-tongued and troublesome. Diligent and disciplined, but also self-destructive, especially in the way he downs coffee and ignores the burn of his throat.

Kamukura’s head tilt, eyes trailing down the curvature of Matsuda Yasuke’s nape and spine, the shifting of shoulder blades, the small of his back and how it swells to his thighs. Kamukura’s lashes lower, remembering the shape in his hands.

What a sensation it is—to hold someone so intimately.

What a _wonderful_ sensation.

* * *

Despite the significant shift in their relationship, Matsuda acts as he always does. He follows directions, gives his usual bit of attitude, and then he focuses on work. Kamukura does the same.

It’s important, after all, to maintain his position above Matsuda.

In a professional sense, of course.

* * *

During their break, he always makes a beeline for Matsuda Yasuke, ignoring everything and everyone else. Matsuda is still scribbling down reports. He yawns, the underside of his eyes dyed with shadows, and he waves at Kamukura blankly as always.

“Are you paying or am I?” His brow furrowed. “You should pay.”

It didn’t matter, so Kamukura nodded all the same.

“Very well. Where would you like to go?”

“A family restaurant, maybe?” Matsuda muses. “Or that Branch Café that opened up recently. The pancakes are good.”

“You should have a more balanced meal.”

Matsuda looks just as unimpressed as his brother would be.

“Did I ask? No. _You_ did. So shut the hell up about my choices.” He huffed. “I can pay for my own damn food, y’know.”

_So troublesome._

“...the café it is, then.”

“That’s what I thought.”

* * *

The café’s interior is decorated with various fake flowers and landscapes. There was a surprisingly pleasant aroma, but his gaze remained on Matsuda Yasuke, who shifted from foot to foot.

In this place that can only be called quaint, Kamukura is struck by a feeling of distaste.

“You’ve been here before,” he said. “Is that so.”

“Uh, yeah, said so earlier, genius,” Matsuda replied, quirking an eyebrow. “It was when you had to go out of town to visit your family.”

What an unpleasant thing to be reminded of.

“I see.”

“It’s nice,” Matsuda goes on. “I mean, it’s cheap, too. Cheap and alright food is fucking godsent. Also, there’s no creepy fucking chef like there is at that family restaurant.”

“That does sound favorable,” Kamukura replied, even as the unpleasant feeling remained.

But everything went by normally. Boringly. Matsuda ordered them a table for two, they were seated, and their drink orders were taken by short, friendly waiter that Matsuda nodded at politely. Nothing unusual. Matsuda once fussed for quite the length about being polite to those with service jobs.

Nothing unusual at all. Even the tea was merely okay and at least competently made.

_What a boring place this is, and yet..._

Matsuda Yasuke seems distracted, gaze flickering about as if there is someone he expects to see.

“Matsuda-kun.”

Matsuda waved his hand, busying his hands with making boats out of napkins.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Terse, with a tenseness to his jaw. Kamukura opens his mouth to say something, and there’s a crash that has both of them snap their heads up.

“Oh no, Komaeda-san!!”

Their waiter is fretting, pulling up the other by his arm. The other is laughing weakly, spewing out apologies for the mess to both the guests and to his coworker. To his coworker in particular, he’s squirming and trying to wave him off.

“R-Really, Naegi-kun, don’t worry about me...! I mustn’t keep you from your work...!”

“Don’t worry about that! Let’s just get you cleaned off.”

Naegi quickly tugs him away.

It had been a brief moment. Unimportant, in the grand scheme of things—except Matsuda Yasuke looks upon the white-haired Komaeda with a rather peculiar look. Except Matsuda Yasuke swallows as Komaeda laughs.

“...Naegi-kun’s so kind!”

The employee door shuts behind them. Matsuda is still staring. Kamukura watches him regain himself and sigh.

“He was my waiter during my visit,” Matsuda said. “The idiot spilled coffee all over himself. Got burns. I ended up dragging him into the back myself, y’know, because I’m actually certified to do that.” A pause. “He’s—clumsy and hapless, but... He’s a character.”

“A character,” Kamukura said, and then it clicked together. “You’re attracted to him.”

Matsuda flinched and immediately, his cheeks flared with a dark blush. Red even to his ears. Endearing, except for the _circumstances_.

_Unpleasant._

“I just think he’s cute,” Matsuda mumbled, irritated and puffy. “Christ, I only really talked to him that one time. Hardly anything to write home about.”

**_Unpleasant._ **

“...did you take me here because you wanted to see my reaction to such a revelation, Matsuda-kun?”

Matsuda was quiet, gaze averted.

“Maybe a little.” Those dark blue eyes flicker towards deep crimson. “Maybe it was just an experiment. Are you upset?”

“Of course not,” he said airily. “As you said, you only spoke to that menial waiter once. It does not surprise me, actually, that he would be your type. Your childhood friend—Otonashi Ryouko, was it? She was also quite hapless and clumsy, wasn’t she?”

Matsuda stiffened, and it was as if a shadow cast over the other’s face.

“Do not _talk_ to me about Ryouko,” he growled, glare darkening evermore. “She has fucking nothing to do with _anything_ anymore.”

_Like glittering ice. Shimmering and sharp enough to draw blood._

“Apologies,” Kamukura offered. “We shall not discuss the matter further, then.”

Matsuda scowled before sipping his drink angrily. Sure enough, there was nothing more _to_ discuss.

* * *

Nothing until that annoying waiter noticed.

“O-Oh, Matsuda-kun! Is that you?!”

“...yo.” Matsuda raises a hand, and Komaeda practically stumbles over his feet is rushing to greet him. “Still a klutz, huh? And how have you not gotten fired, yet?”

Komaeda is laughing, eyes shining and bright. So bright that it really is infuriating.

“I’m doing better,” Komaeda says. “I just...have such bad luck. But Naegi-kun is so patient with me! I’m still so fortunate!” His hands clasp. “But enough about little ol’ me, what about the good doctor? I still really appreciate you helping me back then... I wish you told me you came back here, I would’ve seen if I could get you a discount on your meals...!”

“Eh, really? Then I’ll come by again. Can you do that?”

“I-I can certainly try...! No, I’ll definitely try!”

_Quick and eager to please. Like a dog._

“Well, it wasn’t a big deal, this time,” Matsuda says and jabs a thumb in his direction. “My coworker here had the bill for this trip. And this asshole has money to burn.”

“Ah... Oh, is that so?” Now Komaeda looks at him with those sparkling eyes. It’s irritating. Beyond irritating. “Oh, wow... He has a really cool air... But an even unhappier face than Matsuda-kun...”

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?” Matsuda asks, snappish.

“I-I mean nothing by it, of course!” Komaeda waves his hands frantically before finally turning to Kamukura. “But—ah, er, forgive my rudeness, sir. And my incompetency. I’m Komaeda Nagito. I work part time but, ehe, I spend a lot of my time here. I really like this place. The staff’s been so kind even though I cause such trouble. And customers are nice, too. They try to help me rather than just yelling at me.”

“I am not interested in your lowly babble, Komaeda Nagito,” he said. “I am only here because Matsuda-kun had wished to see you.”

“Ah, um, of course... I don’t really understand the second part, though... I must have misheard you...”

Matsuda was quiet, but not unaffected.

“Don’t mind him,” Matsuda muttered. “He’s a bit of a dick.”

“Oh, that’s not nice to say!” Komaeda exclaimed. “You’ll make him even unhappier, Matsuda-kun!”

“I do not care,” Kamukura interjected. “Matsuda Yasuke’s half-hearted insults are hardly worth concern. It is foolish to be so concerned.”

Matsuda fumed.

“Did I only say a bit?” His words are dripping with sarcasm. “ _Sorry_ , I actually mean Kamukura’s a total fucking asshole and I only put up with his miserable nihilistic ass because he buys me free food.”

“Um...” Komaeda looks between them awkwardly, smile fading. “You two have quite the unique, relationship, aha... Neither of you are the type to play along with others, huh.”

“What a boring observation to make,” Kamukura murmured. Matsuda elbowed him sharply. It hardly hurt.

“Still, the bonds we make with other people are important,” Komaeda goes on like he hadn’t heard a thing. His smile has regained its cheer. “And the two of you should support each other as much as you can. That’s such a wonderful thing, especially for two very important, very talented individuals.”

_Important. **Talented**._

Kamukura remembered his brother, and his mood darkened, more so when Komaeda repeated very familiar words.

“Compared to you two, I’m really boring and lacking... But I’m rooting for you both with all I have.”

“That’s such an idiotic thing to say, Komaeda,” Matsuda said. “Kamukura’s not going to appreciate that. I doubt he’s even going to remember it.”

“T-That’s regrettable even if it’s understandable...” Komaeda rubbed sheepishly at his nape. “Aha, sorry, sorry, Matsuda-kun must be annoyed, too, since I said all this already...”

“I’m not really that annoyed,” Matsuda said. “I’m just warning you because that sincerity of yours shouldn’t go wasted on guys like us.”

“Oh, I disagree strongly!” Komaeda was ridiculously spirited with the exclamation. “Matsuda-kun is the same kind-hearted, wonderful person who treated my burns, after all! And Kamukura-kun—even if he’s rude to me, that the two of you are close is reason enough to believe that he, too, much be wonderful and incredible!”

_Boring. So boring. Worthless. Such worthless sentiments._

And yet, Matsuda Yasuke’s expression twisted as he sighed. But before Matsuda could say anything, someone calls out.

“Komaeda-san!”

“Ah, coming Naegi-kun!” Komaeda calls out. “Ah, um, sorry for keeping the two of you! Matsuda-kun, I’ll see you later, okay? I won’t forget about the discounts!” He beams. “Please drive safely!”

“I... Yeah. Yeah, we will.” Matsuda’s jaw tenses just a little. “I’ll hold you to your world, Komaeda.”

“It was very nice to meet you, Kamukura-kun,” Komaeda says, nodding politely at him. He isn’t deigned a response, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. He just turns his focus to scampering off to where he’d been called.

Just like that.

“Food was nice,” Matsuda says, almost sullen. “We should come back here soon.”

“...if you want,” Kamukura replies.

Just so slightly, his fingers twitch.

* * *

Matsuda dozes off in the car as he drives. He barely stirs when they arrive at his home, and Kamukura is careful in carrying him inside.

He already has a key for this place. Matsuda had given it to him because he was sick of getting up to answer the door for him. It was unnecessary, of course—but a sentiment that Kamukura cherished, he supposed.

“Mmgh...” Matsuda’s head lolls against his shoulder. “Mm...”

Kamukura kicks the door shut, and somehow that’s enough to wake him.

“Nn... Huh? Oh. Home already. Fuck.” He groans, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Work was more of a bitch than usual, and we didn’t even get dinner...”

“I can cook you something,” Kamukura said, setting him on his feet, even as Matsuda predictably slouches. “As I always do.”

“Yeah... I guess... You’re not going home today, either, huh...” Matsuda yawns. “Do you even _have_ a house?”

“Of course I do,” Kamukura answered. “You know better than to listen to the ridiculous rumors people spread about me, Matsuda-kun.”

“You say that like I know shit about you,” Matsuda huffed, pointing at him. “I don’t. I don’t know you at all. We’re only _barely_ acquaintances.”

“You never asked,” Kamukura pointed out.

“That’s because it’s none of my damn business. As long as you do the work, who the hell cares about the rest?” Matsuda kicks off his shoes irritably. “You, too. Don’t fucking track dirt on my carpet.”

Kamukura does the same, and he slips into the spare slippers that Matsuda sets out for him.

_...barely acquaintances...and we’re like this. Matsuda Yasuke really is a funny person._

He knows quite a bit about him, in contrast, and Matsuda doesn’t talk about his personal life. But the papers do. And they detail quite intricate things.

Of course, Matsuda gets angry when people inquire further, and Kamukura would like to prevent that. So he does not ask. And he does not allow others to ask, either.

_Matsuda Yasuke...is someone I prefer to monopolize._

Matsuda worked most closely with him. Matsuda was closest to him, in skill, intelligence, and in the more general sense. Matsuda and his peculiarities were crystal clear in a grunge of miasma and insects.

Matsuda nearly topples over, and Kamukura is quick to steady him.

“Careful,” he murmurs, against Matsuda’s nape before pressing his lips to his cervical spine. Matsuda stiffens a little and pushes at him.

“M’fine. Fuck off.”

Kamukura pulls away, and Matsuda tumbles face-down onto the couch.

_Fine, indeed._

“...would you like a massage, Matsuda-kun?”

Matsuda snores.

“Very well, then.”

_You really are such a peculiar person._

With that in mind, Kamukura locks the door, both the knob and the padlock.

* * *

Buzzing. And static.

_“Is there anything you can’t do?”_

The words are garbled, broken audio.

_“What do you think it’s like? Being stuck in your shadow?”_

The mass standing before him is indescribable, coated with grime, and a withering force.

_“It’s not fair, it’s not fair—”_

Something rotten is dripping on him. Something unyielding and rancid grips his shoulders.

_“Isn’t he so talented?”_

_“Isn’t he so incredible?”_

_“That’s our Izuru.”_

_“Our precious, golden Izuru.”_

“I _hate_ you,” his brother sobs, slurring the words. His hand stings from where it had been slapped. “I hate you so _much_.”

The stench is overwhelming, but he’s used to it. Really. The stench, the buzzing, the writhing, the muck, the force...

And then, Matsuda, shuffling his feet before him, face flushed and gaze averted. Matsuda is undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, fingers deft yet tense. Matsuda shifts, and fabric slides down his bare shoulders.

Even the sludge weighing down his arms isn’t enough to stop Kamukura from yanking Matsuda closer.

“ _Careful_ ,” Matsuda hissed. Matsuda is glaring. The bags beneath his gaze look heavy, and yet—Matsuda remains bright. “I haven’t done this in a _while_ , y’know.”

“I have never done this at all,” Kamukura admits softly, drawing Matsuda in even closer, to where Matsuda is in his lap. There was a fetid stench in the air—but Matsuda’s scent is overpowering it. “Matsuda-kun...”

“Just stop when I tell you to stop, alright?”

“I...” He hesitates. “Alright.”

Matsuda kisses him.

Kamukura suffocates as Matsuda breathes.

* * *

And his eyes snap open. His neck and shoulders ache. He has his head half-buried in his arms. There is a blanket wrapped around him.

“Yo.” Matsuda waves when he turns his gaze towards his direction. Matsuda is reading manga with his other hand. “You fell asleep at the table, you fucking idiot. And you’re too heavy to move.”

There is a particular scent in the air.

“You were out for so long that I went and got a shower,” Matsuda says, as if reading his thoughts. “Sorry not sorry if you wanted any of the hot water.”

“I already showered today,” Kamukura answered.

“Of course you did.” Matsuda shuts his book. “Get the hell up. That shit’s bad for your back. You’re a real idiot savant, y’know that?”

Kamukura stands, keeping the blanket wrapped around him. It, too, has a fresh scent.

“Just return that to the closet,” Matsuda says. “No big deal. It’s still clean enough. If you actually showered.”

Kamukura nods and obeys, folding it up neatly before he does. There’s a light chill in the air, courtesy of the window unit. It does not surprise him. Matsuda Yasuke likes it cold, after all.

“I had instant noodles,” Matsuda goes on. “You should probably have something, too. You’re hungry, right?”

Kamukura is quiet. Matsuda sets his book aside and goes into the kitchen to rummage through the pantry.

“Lessee... I have noodles...soup...uh... Rice. Rice is good, I guess. I need to get a new rice cooker—the one I have is so small, but... I guess it’s whatever.” A pause. “Canned stuff. Like peaches. I might eat these, actually...”

Kamukura’s arms wind around his waist.

“Uh, huh?”

Kamukura’s face buries itself in his shoulder.

“Huh, huh, huh?”

Kamukura squeezes.

“Oi... When I said hungry, I didn’t mean...”

“I’ll eat later.”

“ _Oi_...”

Matsuda is swiftly kissed quiet before he’s pulled away.

* * *

He’s pinning Matsuda to the wall, unable to help himself from indulging.

Matsuda’s hair is surprisingly soft between his fingers. The rare, recently showered Matsuda Yasuke, squirming and smelling of mint shampoo and honeydew body wash. What particular tastes this person has. And how he squirms, cheeks flushing as Kamukura kisses him deeply.

“A-Ah, hah...”

He’s shivering as their mouths move together, as Kamukura’s fingers trail up the small of his back. Even when pressed against the wall, Matsuda’s fingers dig into Kamukura’s coat for a sense of purchase.

“K... Kamukura...”

Kamukura nibbles at his lips. They’re soft and swell between his teeth. Eagerly, he proceeds to sucking on that sharp tongue that Matsuda Yasuke was so very well-known for. That same sharp tongue and filthy mouth both degrade into such helpless moans and whines as Kamukura’s knee presses between his legs.

Precise. To the point.

Kamukura’s fingers dip past the waistband of Matsuda’s boxers. They burrow in and squeeze his rump.

“A-Ack...!”

Matsuda jumps, and Kamukura holds him steadily.

“O-Oi, just what the hell do you think you’re doing!!” Matsuda is gripping onto him as if for dear life. The usual bite is dulled by just how ruffled he is. How needy. His groin is hot against Kamukura’s leg. His much more honest hips are shifting with the clear desire to rock. His reserved, insincere lips are trembling preciously.

“You are a genius, second only to myself in intelligence, Matsuda Yasuke,” Kamukura says with all seriousness before asking, much more sardonically. “What do you _think_ I’m doing?”

Surprisingly, Matsuda’s blush darkened as he scowled.

“You’re being way too rough, you jackass!” he exclaimed. “And too fast! Slow the fuck down!”

He’s fuming.

Kamukura nods, kissing his cheek.

“Very well. Slower. More drawn out. So that’s what you like.”

“I-It’s not about what I li...h-hey...!” Matsuda yelps with honest surprise when Kamukura hoists him up in the air. He clings to him on instinct, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck. “C-Careful...!”

“Of course,” Kamukura murmurs. “You are more fragile than you look, after all.”

“F-Fuck you...!”

“I plan to.” He bites Matsuda’s ear. “I have only yet to decide how.”

Matsuda trembles a bit, and he grumbles, cheeks pink and pinker when pecked.

“You’re too much, Kamukura Izuru.”

He says that, and he’s oh so pliant as Kamukura kisses him. With that, Kamukura carries him off to bed.

* * *

Their clothes are strewn messily across the floor. Not an unusual thing even under different circumstances. Matsuda Yasuke was terrible about keeping up with laundry, after all.

The ceiling light is still broken. Matsuda Yasuke has yet to get it fixed and he just brushes Kamukura off when asked about it. The only light is from that of Matsuda’s bedside lamp. It performs its function suitably, but as of late, the light produced has begun to fade.

Not that Matsuda Yasuke really cares.

Matsuda Yasuke doesn’t really care about many things.

He’s different from Hajime.

So very, very different.

And so very precious because of it. Precious and galling.

Kamukura pins him to the bed, hair cascading down like a curtain. Matsuda stares back up at him, the stirring deep blue of his gaze. Dazed. Matsuda’s eyes fall shut when Kamukura begins to trail kisses down his jawline and neck. With how fair he is, that deepening blush of his really is so vibrant.

_Matsuda-kun’s blushes are endearing._

But, sometimes they weren’t because of him. Sometimes, Matsuda Yasuke blushes because of a menial waiter. A nobody.

The thought is just a little sickening. Matsuda Yasuke blushing for someone else—someone else who doesn’t remotely matter in the grand scheme of things and is nothing more than another faceless writhing mass, another indistinguishable cog in the machine.

The thought is...incredibly sickening.

“I want to leave marks on you,” Kamukura murmurs against his throat, nuzzling into the juncture between neck and shoulder.

“If you leave them in a place where someone sees them, I’ll kill you,” Matsuda says simply, eyes still shut. For a moment, Kamukura simply fixates on his lips, thumb running over the lower swell. Matsuda bites him. It doesn’t hurt, of course, but he pulls away all the same. Matsuda shifts, stretching a bit as if merely trying to make himself comfortable laying on the bed.

“Just do whatever you want, Kamukura,” Matsuda says easily. “Within reason.”

Matsuda makes it seem insignificant. Boring, almost.

_Matsuda Yasuke..._

Kamukura kisses him deeply, and Matsuda is pliant when his tongue presses through. He’s not so imperturbable that the passionate melding of mouths leaves him unaffected. No, Matsuda kisses back almost clumsily, shivering and stimulated from rubbing against the inside of his cheeks, and his own tongue, uncertain yet accepting as it’s wrapped up in wet smacks.

It’s noisy. Messy. Matsuda groans as Kamukura presses even closer. A thick, shimmering line of saliva connects their lips when they part. Kamukura is hardly satisfied.

“Stick it out,” he commands lowly, thumb digging into the slacked corner of Matsuda’s lips. “Your tongue.”

Matsuda sticks out his tongue. Kamukura wastes no time coaxing it into his own mouth and sucking on it greedily.

“M-Mmmh...”

_Such a sharp tongue. And stimulating it makes you so pliant, Matsuda Yasuke._

“K-Kamu... Ah...”

More wet, noisy sounds. Smacks between their lips. By the end of it, Matsuda is panting with swollen lips.

And he’s yet to have sucked his cock.

_Good things come to those who wait,_ he reminds himself. _And, yet._

Kamukura resumes his earlier ministrations, scraping his teeth against Matsuda’s shoulder, kissing down his sternum as he teases and flicks those sensitive buds. Matsuda flinches, and he squirms.

“Your chest is so sensitive,” Kamukura murmurs, mouthing at it before tracing an areola with his tongue. “I suppose mine is more so.”

“It’s sensitive skin,” Matsuda hisses. “Nothing peculiar about that.”

Kamukura sucks on him once more, and Matsuda groans.

“N-Nnnn...”

“Yes, sensitive,” Kamukura says when he pulls away, licking his lips. His hand cups Matsuda’s groin, stirring to life and pulsing with heat. Without the barriers of fabric, he can feel just how hard the other is. Matsuda even winces from the pure exposure of it, when he hadn’t been opposed to Kamukura stripping him earlier. Now, he shudders and gasps when Kamukura grips his length and strokes. “This, too, is easily stimulated. As are your ears, thighs, the back of your knees, the soles of your feet...”

“D-Did you write all of that down?!” Matsuda hissed. “You’re making this fucking _weird_ , y’know!”

“No. I simply have perfect recall.” Kamukura’s head tilts. “You know this.”

“There’s a difference between studying texts and studying someone like...” Matsuda stammers a bit. “L-Like _that_.”

“...obviously.” _I do not understand his point._ “It is better to stimulate most effectively, yes? After all, I want you to enjoy yourself, Matsuda-kun.”

Matsuda grumbles, but his expression softens.

_Ah._

“That’s a nice sentiment...but it’s just sex, Kamukura, it’s not a big deal.”

**_Hah._ **

“Matsuda Yasuke,” Kamukura said lowly. “Stop talking.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Please.” Matsuda’s scowling face fades, just a little, so Kamukura pleads more. “ _Please_.”

_If you keep treating this as insignificant, I’m going to be sick._

Matsuda falters, features smoothing over as he rolls his eyes. Exasperation. Of course. Unsurprising.

Kamukura kisses him as he fondles him. The result is as expected. Matsuda tensing and groaning. How simple it is, to get someone to unravel just from these base methods.

Matsuda cries out when Kamukura squeezes his cock, and that’s just fine.

“I do not expect you to keep entirely quiet,” he murmurs, kissing Matsuda’s cheek. “I have no qualm about these noises, Matsuda-kun.”

Matsuda curses at him, and Kamukura kisses the hollow beneath his ear.

Matsuda’s nails dig into his shoulders, and his back. There’s going to be marks. Angry and red, just like Matsuda.

Kamukura kisses his forehead, meeting that tearfully frustrated gaze for only a moment before pushing up the other’s thighs.

_He really is so cute it’s painful._

Fingers slicked, he presses them inside, slowly. Carefully. Thrusts minimal. Matsuda’s walls are tight, after all. Tight and hot. Pulsing.

Matsuda whines at him, so he goes just a little harsher. He angles them towards that puffy bundle of nerves, taking in how Matsuda’s body jolts, how Matsuda mewls almost pitifully when he presses into his perineum as well as his prostate.

“Kamukura... H-Hey...” His breath catches as Kamukura’s fingers burrow in as deep as can be managed. “Ah...!”

He covers his mouth, regrettably muffling those needy noises.

_But I did tell him not to speak. So he’s being obedient._

He really is so cute it’s painful.

“It is just sex,” Kamukura said blankly. “You do not need to put on such a show.”

“F-Fuck you, just _fuck_ you,” Matsuda gasps out, eyes sparking with that defiance of his. Such defiance.

And he’s still so flushed with arousal. It’s clear. Obvious. His cock is upright, swollen, and leaking, precum dribbling down the length.

“Perhaps you are just a slut,” Kamukura murmurs.

“You’re such a **_fucking_** —!”

Kamukura strikes his prostrate with enough force to leave Matsuda winded and spasming, trembling with wide eyes and a wider, open and drooling mouth. Matsuda regains himself quickly and admirably, just as Kamukura pulls out his fingers and slicks up his cock with oil.

He himself is hard. Heavy. Everything is so heavy.

_Everything. It’s so heavy. So heavy it’s crushing._

“...oi.”

Matsuda touches his face, and for a moment, the world lightens as Matsuda blinks up at him. It’s not often that his eyes are so wide. Right now, Kamukura could count each and every one of those long, delicate eyelashes.

“Kamukura... Is everything alright?”

_What a question that is._

“Everything is fine.” Without really thinking, nor even predicting it, Kamukura takes his hand with his own. The one that’s clean, that isn’t positioning himself at Matsuda’s entrance. “Just fine.”

Their fingers entwine, and Kamukura presses their connected grip into the sheets as he pushes in. Matsuda tenses, hissing as his body is penetrated in the most intimate of ways, and he squeezes Kamukura’s hand to cope with the likely burn of being stretched open. And yet, it is hardly difficult to bury himself in so deep that from the tip to his sac is enveloped in constrictive heat.

_The sensation of being inside another person is indescribable. But for myself, this only matters because of the person. To think, Matsuda Yasuke could do this for just anyone, even that boring waiter—_

He wondered, idly, if it would be possible to make such an imprint on another person that it could be a sign of ownership.

He recalls, briefly, the way his brother would scribble his name onto his toys as a deterrence.

_Matsuda-kun does not want marks that can be seen._

With that in mind, he bites Matsuda’s shoulder hard enough to bruise but not hard enough to draw blood. Matsuda yelps but he’s distracted by Kamukura’s hips beginning to move.

“A-Ahhh... Hah...! K-Kamukura...”

Kamukura lets go of his hand so that Matsuda could properly cling to him, arms looping securely around his neck. His legs are already hitched around Kamukura’s hips, compensation for how awkward it must be to meet his thrusts.

_So cute,_ Kamukura thinks as he fucks him into the sheets. The very bed is protesting. Unimportant, compared to Matsuda Yasuke. Nothing else mattered. Nothing except— _I want to make you mine._

_I am willing to share everything with the world. My services, my capabilities, my talents, my very being—but I want to keep you for myself, Matsuda Yasuke._

Matsuda lets out a desperate cry.

_Mine._

“K-Kamukura...”

**_Mine._ **

 “K-Kamukura...!”

_So, please._

“F-Fuck...!”

**_Please._ **

Matsuda squeezes around him. His arms. His legs. His rectum.

And Kamukura kisses him deeply, holding the other close and tight as they tumble over that edge together. Matsuda practically sobs as Kamukura spills inside, filling him with hot seed. Matsuda, too, makes a mess of himself when he comes, back arching and heat rippling throughout his body as his eyes roll back with nothing short of ecstasy.

_Yasuke..._

When it’s all over, Matsuda Yasuke goes limp like a marionette with its strings cut. As though Matsuda were a doll, Kamukura cradles him, kissing his temple as his eyelashes flutter.

“Ah... Hah...” Matsuda pants, trying to catch his breath. “K... Kamukura... I... I... C-Come on...”

“I understand.”

* * *

It had not been enough, of course. It would be ridiculous if merely one session were enough. So after wiping himself clean, Kamukura licks the other’s body off, along his stomach, abdomen, and even a bit of his chest where cum had been splattered. He’s nothing short of thorough, when doing the same between Matsuda’s legs.

And how Matsuda’s insides quiver as Kamukura cleans him.  

“S-Shit.”

It’s not a bad thing, even if he does not care for the taste on its own. Still, there is something about the sensation of a freshly fucked Matsuda Yasuke. Full and dripping with his seed. If not for Matsuda’s distaste about hardened semen, he likely would have left the matter alone.

It’s not a bad thing. He supposes he can just fuck and fill Matsuda again. And again. And again.

Until Matsuda Yasuke’s body drowns and luxuriates in his essence, to the point where he could never again be able to even think of another person so _perversely_ —

_Yasuke, **Yasuke**._

Matsuda’s thighs are supple and ample. Perfect for marking. And the way Matsuda shivered was quite the bonus.

“I’m, uh...actually not sure how much more of this I can take,” Matsuda mumbles as Kamukura’s teeth graze along his inner thighs, earning a low groan. “I didn’t know you were so insatiable, jeez.”

“It’s merely a matter of stamina,” Kamukura replies, kissing one of his marks. “Do you wish to separate?”

His eyes flicker to Matsuda’s cock once again standing upright. Matsuda huffed, blush darkening just a little.

“You know the answer to that. Dick.”

“Dick,” Kamukura repeated, innocently and then moves onto the cock in question. He laps up a line of precum, and Matsuda bites down on his lip from the sensation.

“U- _Uurgh_...” His fingers thread through Kamukura’s hair as he’s taken into his mouth. “You’re going to make me lose my mind, Kamukura Izuru.”

Such is the plan, so Kamukura sucks harder, tongue laving his cock. The taste is heavy and heady. Truth be told, it’s still not pleasant. But with how just the right stimulation can cause Matsuda’s toes to curl, he supposes he can overlook the taste for now.

Matsuda pulls at his hair. His scalp burns, the strands sensitive.

He wants that to happen again, so he takes Matsuda in as deep as possible, nose burying in his pubic hair. Matsuda yelps as his throat clamps around his cock. Kamukura can feel his balls tighten between his fingers, and he once again presses hard into that sensitive spot at the base.

“A- _Ah_...!”

Matsuda’s hips jerk, and Kamukura dutifully catches the release in his mouth. He swallows without missing a beat. He notices that Matsuda Yasuke is biting his hand. Such was why he hadn’t made much noise. When he tugs at Matsuda’s wrist, he takes in the indents of teeth.

“You need your hands,” Kamukura said slowly, thumb stroking over the marks. “You want to be a surgeon, after all. So be less reckless, Matsuda-kun.”

“Mmgh.” Matsuda swallows, turning away. “Jeez. Don’t scold me when you just choked yourself on my dick. You haven’t even eaten dinner yet.”

“Semen does provide some nourishment,” Kamukura pointed out. “Protein, calcium, potassium, zinc...”

“You do _realize_ that you would have to swallow a lot of that stuff to actually get a sufficient amount of nourishment, right?” Matsuda asked, exasperated. “And I can’t produce that much jizz.”

Matsuda smacked him over the head.

“So just fucking eat an actual meal!”

It didn’t hurt, but Kamukura rubs his head all the same.

“...I am not that hungry, but if you continue to insist... I’ll take supplements, then.”

“Not fucking good enough!” Matsuda barked. “Just supplements will stunt your growth, dipshit!”

“So fussy,” Kamukura mused. He sighed. “Very well, then.”

He shifts so that his legs are over the bed. But before he can stand, Matsuda grabs his wrist, expression strangely shy.

“...you’re going like that?” The question’s as quiet as a whisper, and Matsuda’s uncertain gaze flickers to his erection. Truth be told, he had not thought much of it.

“It will flag with time.”

“I...” Matsuda clicked his tongue irritably and tugs at him. “I don’t think that’s healthy, either. So. Just. Let me. Return the favor from earlier. Before you go. _Alright_?”

_Ah._

“Mm.”

“It might give you some kind of appetite,” Matsuda said, pulling him back onto the bed. With that, Matsuda got started, wrapping his hand around the length and pumping his cock in a steady, well-practiced rhythm. “Geez, you really are bizarre sometimes. Are you sure you’re human?”

“I...” Kamukura sucks in his breath. Matsuda’s hand is cold, but the motions—are definitely pleasant. “I would assume so. Even if I do not always feel that way.”

“Yeah?” Matsuda’s eyes levelly meet his own as he bites the inside of his cheek. “I was just being cheeky. You definitely _feel_ human, Kamukura Izuru.”

_Definitely, huh._

“You’re an especially maddening one, that said,” Matsuda goes on, squeezing his cock and playing with it almost idly, delicate doctor fingers dancing over the sensitive veins and contours. “Like this, for instance. This really just pisses me off.”

“For what reason...?”

Matsuda doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans down and laps up the precum bubbling from the tip. In contrast to his cooler touch, his tongue is warm. Smooth. Ironic, really.

“Mm...” Kamukura watches him suckle the head of his cock, mindful of his teeth, pulling down his foreskin and running his tongue over every sensitive spot. “Ah, Matsuda-kun.”

“What’s with that look?” Matsuda asks, deadpanned, fondling his balls. “Is this the one thing the great Kamukura Izuru has no experience in? Someone just sucking him off? That’s pretty sad.”

“I have not desired to do this with anyone else in the past,” Kamukura said. “Just you, Matsuda Yasuke.”

“Seriously?” Matsuda looked even more unimpressed. “That’s sad.”

He shrugs it off, resuming his ministrations, sucking on the head of his cock as he rolls his balls and brushing back his hair so that it doesn’t get in the way. He takes in more, stroking what he can’t reach.

His mouth is hot. His fingertips are warm. His touch—

Kamukura trembles from it all.

“...how many people...” Without thinking, he reaches out to run his fingers through those raven feather strands. “Have you done this with?”

Matsuda doesn’t answer him, but he does give a few squeezes to his genitals that could’ve been a warning. He doesn’t cease in bobbling his head between Kamukura’s legs.

“Ah... A _ha_...” It was dizzying. But good. Most certainly. “Matsuda-kun...”

His continues to stroke Matsuda’s hair, unsure of what else to do but enjoying the sensations all the same, even as his breathing grew heavier.

Deep blue eyes flicker upwards to meet his own, hazed red, and Matsuda makes a low moan, causing that wet heat surround him to vibrate. Kamukura’s breath caught.

“A-Ah...!”

Just like that, he releases. It’s surprisingly different from before but just as intense, still a wave of pleasure that causes everything to go blissfully blank for a moment, the aftermath leaving him shuddering and hissing, sucking in air.

Matsuda pulls off, cheeks puffed and covering his mouth. Drearily, Kamukura reaches for him, but just as his fingertips brushed against the other’s jaw, Matsuda had pulled away completely. Just like that, Matsuda slipped off the bed, and headed into the bathroom.

The sink is turned on. And Kamukura can hear the other spitting out his cum.

_Ah. **Oh**._

Quiet, Kamukura decided to get up as well. He retrieves his underwear, knowing Matsuda wouldn’t exactly appreciate him walking around the house naked.

“...I’ll go eat something, then,” he calls out, almost absently.

“Good,” Matsuda calls back before rinsing out his mouth and gargling.

That was that, then.

* * *

Ever dutifully, he washes the dishes, drying them and putting them away, mulling as he does.

_Intimacy is supposed to be fulfilling. I do not feel fully fulfilled. Would that change if Matsuda-kun took the lead?_

He wondered.

_Partners...are not always exclusive to one another. Is that the issue, then?_

He thought, for a moment, about Matsuda and that waiter, and he nearly breaks something.

_...perhaps it is. That’s the issue. That we are not...exclusive. Then, we should be exclusive. No one else deserves him._

He thought about the two of them getting married, and decided he was rather partial to the idea.

_Still... Marriage takes time to ease into, as do all relationships. Good things come to those who wait. Good things..._

Matsuda had told him something. The first time they were together.

_“This doesn’t have to mean anything.”_

He said that.

_“You can just think of it as venting or whatever. Makes no difference to me.”_

He really said that.

_How ridiculous. I should not be **insignificant** to you, Matsuda Yasuke._

With that in mind and a renewed determination, he returned to the room. Matsuda had taken another shower and hadn’t bothered to get dressed afterwards, laying on his stomach and still in the nude. He was reading comics again.

“There’s still hot water,” Matsuda said without looking up, flipping through the pages. “Knock yourself out. But not literally. I just cleaned the shower this morning.”

“Mm...” Kamukura goes along with it, pausing when he catches sight of bruises dotting Matsuda’s thighs. The marks from before. Mapped on his body like stars. Kamukura’s eyes drift to the small of his back. His shoulder blades. The bitemark on his shoulder.

His own back tingles from the marks that Matsuda had left on him.

He’s quick to retreat into the bathroom before Matsuda can question him, even as he thinks almost desperately, _I **want** him._

* * *

By the time he’s dried himself off, he’s calmed down.

But the thoughts swirl around over and over in his head.

Static. Buzzing. Miasma. Matsuda. Intimacy. Desire.

The fact that Matsuda is the only person he’s ever been close to. The fact that their relationship has always been so _simple_. The fact that Matsuda is the only person he can look at clearly and see something that _isn’t_ unpleasant. And the fact that Matsuda can look at other people like that—bothers him.

_I don’t want that. I don’t want Matsuda-kun to be with someone else. I don’t want to be insignificant. If there could be some way that I can prevent that—_

“Matsuda-kun.”

_I shall do whatever it takes._

He dresses himself in one of Matsuda’s robes. It’s just a little too small. Matsuda notices, and gawks.

“You couldn’t get your own?”

“I will wash it. Do you mind?” His head tilts, eyes wide. It has been a while since he played innocent. “I can change, if you like.”

“...whatever,” Matsuda scoffs. “It’s not like I’m making use of it, I guess. Still, don’t just fucking steal my clothes.”

“I like the scent of your clothes,” Kamukura says. “They are nice. Spice and sanitizer.”

“What the hell kind of nice combination is that? Also don’t sniff my clothes, weirdo.” Matsuda flusters just a little. “Christ, are you my boyfriend or something?”

_There._

“...I would like to be, truth be told.” Kamukura swallows, keeping his voice light and also—letting a trace of vulnerability bleed into his voice. “Would you reject me?”

Matsuda flinched, eyes wide.

“S... Seriously?”

“Quite.” Kamukura frowned. “I’m quite serious.”

And under his intense stare, Matsuda seems to falter. Flushed and taken aback.

“Uh... I didn’t think... That you...” Matsuda runs tense fingers through his hair, biting down on already swollen lips. “I just... Fucking really? You’re seriously just—asking me that?”

“...”

_Good things come to those who wait._

“...have I made things awkward?” He quiets. “Should I leave?”

“N... No... No? No, you...don’t have to do that...” Matsuda still seems lost, rubbing his temples. “I’m just shocked. Didn’t take you for the relationship type.”

_I refuse to be insignificant._

“Nothing has to change,” Kamukura says and slowly but surely, he draws close, crawling onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Matsuda’s neck, pressing his chest to the other’s back. “If you wish to keep this relationship as is, then I can accept that.”

“...for some reason I doubt that,” Matsuda murmurs. “Oi, Kamukura...”

Kamukura nuzzles his cheek.

“Matsuda-kun, I can continue making you feel good. Just as long as you don’t reject me.”

“T-That’s...” His cheeks color again. “I-I... Urgh... Fuck... _That’s_...”

Kamukura squeezes him. Darkly, he thinks of Matsuda with another. He contemplates, for a moment, but before his thoughts can delve somewhere murky and deep, Matsuda inhales.

“Aw, what the _hell_.” Matsuda sighed out. “Christ, we already pretty much live together and spend a lot of time with each other. And we’ve fooled around. What would the difference even be in making it official?”

“Not much,” Kamukura says and kisses his nape. “We would just be _exclusive_.”

“...yeah, that’s not much of a difference,” Matsuda said. “So, sure. Why the hell not.” He shrugged. “It’s whatever.”

_Whatever, he says._

Kamukura kisses him.

“We should sleep. Work tomorrow.” His lips twist. “We can go to that café again.”

“Yeah...” Matsuda sounds almost distant, so Kamukura pulls him even closer. “We could.”

Matsuda sets aside his book and flicks off the light. Kamukura continues to cling to him as Matsuda pulls the blankets over them both.

“Night, Kamukura.”

“Good night, Matsuda-kun.”

There was a strange feeling bubbling up in his chest and if Kamukura had to put a name to it, he supposed it’d be...

Satisfaction.

_For once, I look forward to the predictable future. The future where Matsuda Yasuke is **mine**._


End file.
